Rules of Survival
by HeCallsMeHisChild
Summary: The Looney Toons. Crazy, kooky, funny, lovable characters, or broken individuals with dark psychological pasts? The real story behind several of our favorite Loony Toons.
1. Bunny

_Rule 1: Never run out of carrots._

_Rule 2: Never get caught._

_Rule 3: Never trust anybody._

_

* * *

Dark. Warm. Tucked firmly in on all sides by others. All needs provided for. Nothing wanting. Perhaps a little more space. Yes, more space. Shift. Turn. Stretch. Kick. Something gives a little, then shoves back. Kick again. And again. Again. Again._

_ Everything tightens. Others are shoved against others, hard. Squeezed again. Again. Pressure builds up. No release. Keeps pressing in, choking, crushing._

_ A sudden piercing, overwhelming sense stabs through the eyes. Even shut they don't protect. Squeal in protest and pain. Kick harder. Something slips around, lifting. Skin prickles, rising and recoiling from this foreign touch—and the accompanying cold._

* * *

"You really should watch your mouth around them you know."

Dr. Jerome glared over at his assistant, Lock, through his lank, bedraggled red hair. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who just had to C-section his pet project!"

"Look, it's rough. You raised her for a year bla bla bla, but the real project is this litter, and the last thing we need is a bunch of babies spewing swear words at our funder when he comes to check on us."

"You mean what's left of the litter. I told them they were injecting too many embryos. First they kill off the mother, then they kill off half of themselves with all that kicking. Damaged the uterus and the mother's body turned on 'em, trying to protect itself." He shrugged out of his bloodstained labcoat and slung it over a nearby chair. Crossing the room, he twisted a knob on the stainless steel faucet and watched the red flow off his hands. "Besides, it's not like they can speak yet."

"No, but the mind is a curious thing. It latches onto the oddest happenings and then regurgitates it at the least expected time."

Dr. Jerome splashed his face. "How long do you think before they start yapping?"

Lock leaned against a counter, one eyebrow raised. "How should I know? Nobody's ever done this before. We're lucky it's the funder taking the flack from PETA and the Right, not us."

"No kidding." The Doctor sighed. "Don't supposes they'd let me bury the body for sentimental reasons?"

"You know policy, Doc. All expired subjects go to the incinerator. Same goes for momma rabbit."

* * *

_ Back. Red and white. Red on top, white all over. Holds up food and makes sound. Reach for food. Food taken away. Game? Don't like. Holds food again, makes sound. Reach for food. Food taken away. Food! Want, have need… this never happened before. Red-and-white used to give sweet white stuff. Then big orange things. Now takes it away. Makes same noise. Makes same noise over and over. Why making same noise? Do not like. But when red-and-white makes noise, food comes. Maybe…_

* * *

"You have to give it up, Doc!" Lock grated through clenched teeth. "The funder's getting impatient, and you've produced nothing but a bunch of mammalic parrots with longer-than-usual digits. It's been three months and all they can say is 'carrot', 'Doc', and 'poop'."

"The funder can take his money and shove it for all I care!" Doc shouted. "He isn't here, he doesn't know. There's other progress being made! Didn't you read my notes on #3? Out of the four left, he's showing signs of intelligence. Just because he's not saying new words doesn't mean progress isn't being made!"

"So 3 said carrot a few more times, so what?"

"You idiot! He said it when I was moving on to feed one of his littermates. He reared up on his hind legs, pressed his forepaws against the cage, and practically whimpered, 'carrot'. The second I gave him another one, he curled up in the corner with it, and I could swear I saw his eyes gleaming. The other three just say 'carrot' on cue to get their food, but this one was asking for more!"

"That's all speculation. You don't know, and if you don't know, the funder may decide he's sick of pouring his money down the drain. Doc, cut your losses. Just write them off as a failed experiment before the money runs out."

"It hasn't failed! I just need more time."

"But Doc, the funder—"

"Shut UP! Shut UP! Shut UP!"

"Up."

Lock's expression froze, and Doc's heart skipped for a second. A third voice had entered the argument."

"Up."

Doc turned to cage 3 and stared. The sleek grayish rabbit had placed its forepaws on the cage door and stared inquisitively at them. Cocking its head to the side, it repeated, "Up. What is up?"

Lock's eyes were as big as onions. "Did 3 just ask a question?"

3 ignored Lock and kept its eyes fixed on Doctor Jerome.

"What is up, Doc?"

"That buggar doesn't just mimic!" Doc crowed, snatching up a carrot. "That one learns!"

"What is buggar?" The rabbit had moved its eyes to the carrot.

"Buggar is you. Good talking!" The carrot slid through the bars into the greedy hands awaiting it.

* * *

"You can't be serious." Doc stared at Lock in disbelief. "The funder poured millions of dollars into mixing rabbit and human DNA so he could have a more interesting _hunt?_"

Lock sighed. "It seems that way. He wants them released into a nearby forest and given a month to settle in before he goes hunting."

"This has to be some sick joke."

"Look, Doc, I know you're fond of them, but the cash cow is dry now. This is the end of the project. You saw it through, and that's good, but the funder calls the shots."

"Doc?" A small voice called from cage 3. "What's he talking about? What's a hunt?"

"Nothing, nothing. Go to sleep."

"But it sounds scary."

Doc walked over and opened the cage, holding out his hands. Buggar, or so he'd been dubbed for some months now, clambered into Doc's arms and clung like a little child. Doc stroked his ears gently, waiting for him to fall asleep. Quietly, he cursed the funder. "What am I going to do? I can't leave them on their own in the woods."

"You mean, you can't leave HIM alone in the woods. The others are still barely intelligent, I know he's your pet project."

"Fine. I can't leave him alone in the woods. Not like this. He's too innocent, he'd be snared in a heartbeat."

Lock glanced at the floor. "Doc… I have an idea, but you're not going to like it…"

* * *

_Nothing makes sense anymore. Doc has always been kind, with a pat on the head or a belly rub or a kind word. Now he glares at me. Tells me I'm not doing well enough on the tests. Says the others are doing better than I am. They can't be! Doc always said I was smarter than them! I can be better. Doc puts us through obstacle courses every day. The others scream and hide when they see the barking dogs. I don't. They're chained up, if I'm careful they can't get me. I climb trees faster, dig holes deeper, and reach the end quicker than any of the others. Still he doesn't smile. Still he says I scored badly. No carrots, just pellets. What did I do wrong?_

_ Days and days of exercises and obstacles. I am the fastest, the smartest, the best. Still no reward. Finally, something different. I am caged with the others and taken outside. I have never seen outside before. The light warms my coat, and I stretch to catch all I can. Doc puts us in the back of a van and takes off his gloves, dropping them in with us. I snatch them up and put them on. Maybe if I'm more like him, he'll smile. I look at him hopefully, but he just stares sadly at me. Did I make him upset?_

_ We're taken somewhere, for hours it seems. Then the van doors open again. The cage door opens as well, and Doc orders us all out. We spring to the ground, startled when we feel crunching under our paws._

_ "Leaves, you stupids, leaves." He mutters._

_ I sidle up to him and smile. "What's up, Doc?" It's been our joke for a while now, but he ignores me._

_ "Listen up. This is it. You're free to go now. You'll have to live your own lives and survive in the wild."_

_ The wild? Survive on our own? I step toward him._

_ "But Doc, what are you talking about? You're our home. You take care of us."_

_ He snarls, "Not anymore. Go. There's a forest over there. It'll have good hidey holes for rodents like you."_

_ My chest is hurting. I don't understand. I open my mouth to protest, when he shouts, "Get out of here! Lock, get the dogs."_

_ I smile to myself. This is just another obstacle course. Lock brings the dogs out, snapping their jaws at us and… unleashes them._

_ Terror shoots through my limbs, propelling me away from the scene. Doc and Lock just unleashed dogs on us! They've never been unchained before! I hear an agonized shriek and pause, turning back. Dangling from one of the dogs' mouths is the broken body of one of my siblings. With a scream, I dash away, scattering leaves and sticks as I flee. This is not an obstacle course. Doc is trying to kill us all. We failed, and he wants us dead._

_ No! I begin digging a hole at the base of a tree. I did not fail. I excelled. I am not to blame. He betrayed me! The hole grows deeper and longer by the second. I hear the blood-curdling baying behind me. I back into the hole, dragging leaves over the opening to cover it up, and huddle at the back. The dogs pass by. I can smell blood on the wake they leave._

* * *

"That's all of them, Doc." Lock snapped on the last leash and loaded the dogs into his own car.

Doc stared at the small body by his feet. Lock shuffled a little.

"Doc… don't take it so hard. They didn't catch Buggar at least. I know you didn't like it, but you had to break his trust. He won't survive if he trusts anybody."

"I know."

"You gave him a shot, Doc. He has a chance of surviving now. He's learned all sorts of tricks, and he'll learn even more as he gets to know the forest. Fudd won't be able to snare him, you just watch. He'll be uncatchable."

"I know." Doc gazed wistfully into the forest. "So long Bugs."

* * *

_Rule 1: Never run out of carrots._

_Rule 2: Never get caught._

_Rule 3: Never trust anybody.  
_

**Note:** This was a challenge from a roommate. I told her that I could create a dark psychological profile for just about any cartoon character, so she said, "Dexter." I said that was too easy, so she said, "How about Bugs Bunny?" Viola.


	2. Duck

_Rule 1: Save your own skin._

_Rule 2: Take what you can. _

_Rule 3: Survive at all costs._

…

"What do you mean he wants another one?" Dr. Jerome's teeth ground together. "Because he hasn't caught Buggar, he wants something still genetically engineered, but slightly dumber?"

"Don't shoot the messenger." Lock raised his hands. "He's given us a gigantic grant, just like before, as long as we release the best subject into his game preserve so he can go hunting. He says he wants a duck this time."

Dr. Jerome spluttered. "A duck? Is he kidding? It was hard enough to combine human DNA with a rabbit, and both are mammals. He wants me to combine human DNA with a _fowl_? Lock!" He roared, "What am I wasting my time here for? I'm making major advances in cloning, unlocking the genetic codes, and making combinations Mendel could only dream about, and it's all being thrown to the end of a gun!"

"Take it easy Doc," Lock pleaded. "Don't blow this. Look, with the proceeds, with the money we have leftover, we'll be able to start our own labs and show our work to the world, but until then, we have to keep our heads down and do what the funder tells us."

"The funder, the funder, the funder," Doc snarled. "The funder can take his funds and shove them right up his—"

"Doc, knock it off! We need this job, and you know it!"

"I know!" Doc's eyes narrowed. "The funder didn't specify the duck had to be unprepared though… just a little dumber than Buggar. I'll be blasted if I don't train this duck every which way of saving his skin."

…

_Warm and roomy long time. Cramped now. Too cramped. Need room. Need to move. Stretch… but can't. Prison all around… stretch more. Something gives. Push harder. Harder…_

_ Cold wind. Bright light. Shiver, retreat. Too much light, it's cold. Retreat. Prison cracking. No, come back, bring warm…_

_ All gone. Cold wind blowing. Shiver. Something warm around me. Nuzzle close. Smell like safe. Smell like home. Smell like…_

_ Anger. I am afraid._

…

Doc surveyed the shivering hatchlings. Four of them. Four, and chances were none of them would be smart enough to survive what he was going to put them through, but he was supposed it would be kinder than what he had done to Bugs. He would make sure not a single one of them trusted him from the start.

Teaching them speech had been a little easier than with Bugs. He'd mixed in a dash of parrot's DNA to aid in that respect. The hatchlings were already two weeks old and speaking like five year olds. He'd hesitated to name them, knowing it would only start an attachment, but he had to have a way of telling them apart.

Stella was the forward, bossy little duck who very quickly established a pecking order. She had been the first to break the shell. Jove had been the second, exploding out of his shell and running around as soon as he could get his webbed feet under him, looking around, tasting, touching and—as soon as he could speak—asking about everything. Daffy had been third, having been named for his insane thrashing whenever Doc came anywhere near him—"Gone daft, that one has," Lock commented. And then there was Nell, the runt of the bunch, barely able to crack her shell. Daffy had peered over from his own crumbling shell and awkwardly flailed over, using his beak to widen the crack.

Nell was only two thirds the size of the others, all wet feathers and tiny bones. She'd huddled up to Daffy, who'd tucked her head under his beak.

The sight broke Dr. Jerome's heart, because he knew what he would have to teach these hatchlings in order to survive.

…..

_ "Where did we come from?" Jove asks, tilting his head up toward Doc during one of our speech lessons. _

_ "From eggs." Doc replies roughly._

_ "Where did the eggs come from?"_

_ "From another duck. Your mother."_

_ "What's a mother?"_

_ "Someone who's supposed to take care of you."_

_ "Where's our mother?"_

_ Doc pauses, then seems to stiffen. "She's about to die."_

_ "What is die?"_

_ Doc turns to a cage behind him and pulls out a female duck. My heart leaps. Jet black feathers, just like me, she must be our mother! I reached out my wings to her, the tips already starting to divide into feathery fingers._

_ With a quick motion, Doc grabs the duck's head and twists it. There isn't even a cry, just a sickening snap._

_ Stella gasps. Jove falls silent. I begin to shake. Nell burrows under my wing._

_ "This is dead, children." He tosses the dead duck's body at us and it lands, wings sprawled, neck crooked. "This is what you will be if you do not learn very quickly what I am going to teach you. Is that understood?"_

_ Something cold coils in my stomach as I nod, mutely staring into the wide open eye of the dead mother I never knew._

….

"Don't you think you're being a little harsh, Doc?" Lock asked, worriedly.

"You just report what you have to to the funder. Tell him it's all going well," Jerome snapped, "Because it is. Not one of them has the brains Buggar had, but they're learning how to survive. You saw the last test."

"Yes," Lock said slowly, "I did."

The test had separated the four ducklings and placed them in separate compartments, all leading to one room. In the middle of that room he had set two portions of food, and only two, then opened the connecting tubes.

Stella had emerged first, closely followed by Jove. They had quickly claimed the food, but Daffy had surprised them all by attacking Jove, fiercely driving him away from the food and stuffing it all in his mouth. Jove had whined, crying about how unfair it was, while Daffy had turned to face Nell, who stood at the edge of the room, trembling. He had waddled over and carefully let a small portion of food spill from his beak in front of her.

"I saw," Lock repeated, "But I don't think that was what you were aiming for."

"No," Doc growled. "They have to save their own skins, Daffy can't help Nell, or he won't be able to survive." He drew a shaky breath. "I'm going to drill it out of him, so help me God."

….

_Where now? We've been working on flying for days now, with all kinds of flight patterns and races, rewards for the winners and punishment for the losers. And Nell has been losing consistently. Food has been withheld from her for days now, and she can barely keep level in the air anymore. I sneak her food when I can, but whenever I'm caught, my legs are switched with sticks until they bleed._

_ I think about stopping. I think about leaving Nell to get her own food, but then I see her eyes. Her huge, scared eyes. I feel her press against my side, under my wing. She doesn't speak, but she doesn't need to. I'll protect her. Stella and Jove can take care of themselves, but she can't, and nobody else will._

_ There's a popping sound next to me. Heads jerk toward it. Jove angles toward the popping to investigate. Suddenly his wing explodes in a flurry of feathers and blood. He shrieks and plummets to the ground. Stella gives a cry and flaps her wings faster, away from the popping. I look down to see Doc with something in his hand. He walks over to where Jove has hit the ground and is flapping brokenly. He points the shiny thing in his hands at Jove, and the popping sound starts and stops. Jove jerks, then stops moving._

_ Stops moving. Like the duck before._

_ Nell lets out a frightened quack as Doc turns the silver thing toward her and makes it pop. She jerks and falls also._

_ Daffy screams and tucks his wings in, diving underneath her to cushion her fall. He hits the ground hard, scraping feathers off his stomach, but she is safe._

_ No, no she's not. Blood is pouring out of her. He quacks frantically. Somebody has to make the blood stop!_

_ "Move, Daffy."_

_ He turns to see Doc pointing the shiny thing at him._

_ "Move, now."_

_ His heart stops. He saw what Doc did to Jove. He's going to do the same thing to Nell._

_ "No! Doc! Don't!"_

_ "Move, Daffy, or I'll make you dead too."_

_ Dead… the broken neck, the twisted wings, the blood pouring out and out… he looked down at Nell. Her beak hung open as she gasped for air. Whatever popped at her had torn apart her lower body. He envisioned himself trying to help her eat like this… trying to help her fly from danger… but how could he keep them both out of danger if she couldn't move at all?_

_ Slowly, he took a step away, then another. Nell twisted her head around, staring at him in confusion. Her beak strained, and out of her throat came a rasping, "Da…ff…"_

_ POP._

_ The rest of her body flew apart. Daffy stared woodenly._

_ "Good choice, Daffy. You get to live. Never forget, Daffy, there's only one person you can protect, and it's yourself."_

_ "I won't…" He whispered, staring at the gory remains. "But Doc?"_

_ "Yes, Daffy?"_

_ Daffy looks up, stares Doc squarely in the eye, and chokes, "You're dethpicable."_

…

It was one more week before Doc released Daffy and Stella into the funder's game preserve. Soon after, he was invited to a dinner of roast duck at the funder's house, which he declined. Lock attended in his place, and reported there had only been a single duck on the table. He said the funder had told an interesting story, about cornering a duck that had mentioned a much fatter, better tasting duck flying directly overhead. It had then proceeded to point the funder's gun upward directly at said flying duck and helped him aim to bring it down. After the resulting bang, the duck had fled the scene, nowhere to be found. The flying one, however, had hit the ground closeby. In its dying words, it cursed its brother, Daffy, for being the only one to survive.

Doc listened to this, nodded gravely, and quietly wrote his resignation notice to the funder.

…

_Rule 1: Save your own skin._

_Rule 2: Take what you can. _

_Rule3: Survive at all costs._


End file.
